


Nuclear Family

by Kangoo



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Implied Relationships, It's not mentioned or anything I just like to point it out, NAmes in Metal Gear are confusing seriously, Ocelot's Big Canon Crush On Snake, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2018-11-12 14:52:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11164185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangoo/pseuds/Kangoo
Summary: A family can be three dad, a dog and their three hundred adopted children.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Playing cards on a dark night, looking mighty fine

Ocelot can hear it long before he reaches the cell — the music. It feels oddly familiar already: the distant sounds of life on Mother Base, feet on metal and industrial white noise, fluorescent lights cutting into the night, the soft sound of waves sloshing around the platforms almost drowned by 80s tunes.

 

 

(Because he doesn’t like silence all that much and listening to Snake sneaking around can only go so far, he has taken to listening to the tapes the Boss brings back from his escapades around the world while he works. And, after hearing Quiet hum to herself while waiting at a sniping point, well, he guessed she might enjoy having some background music to fill the emptiness of her cell.

 

 

He hasn’t found the time to get his hand on russian pop yet, but if there’s one thing americans do well, it’s music, so it’ll do for now.)

 

 

He reaches his destination and taps his foot in front of the stairs, twice. It’s not easy to knock before coming in, given the lack of a door, but it’s always good to try and respect dangerous people’s boundaries. As there are few sounds on base that are more recognizable than the jingling of Ocelot’s spurs, it’s as good a way as any to announce his presence. It's nothing, barely an illusion of privacy, but Quiet seems to be — well, not happy, she barely outwardly expresses any emotion at all, but he feels like she approves of the small gesture.

 

 

Although it appears that, tonight, she can’t be bothered to give a damn about it: she doesn’t move a muscle when he reaches the last step, doesn’t even glance at him. It’s not new, even though she’s been getting better at not ignoring him lately.

 

 

But this time she’s not only ignoring him: she’s _distracted_.

 

 

He would be, too, in her place. Snake just has this effect on people.

 

 

Ocelot is pretty sure — no, he _knows_ — that Snake is perfectly aware of his presence. He still tries his damnest to be quiet when he leans against a wall, out of the way, to look at the scene in front of him.

 

 

Snake has made a space for himself in front of the cage and sits there, on the ground, with his flesh hand resting lightly on DD’s back. Quiet sits in front of him, on the other side of the bars, cross-legged. They both hold cards, and more cover the floor between them.

 

 

“Do you have any threes?” The terrifying mercenary and living legend that is Big Boss asks, and if Ocelot had any hero-worship left in him he would have lost it right there and then.

 

 

Quiet hands him a card. Then, she holds out one hand and shows him two fingers.

 

 

“Go fish.”

 

 

She takes a card out of the pile.

 

 

It’s incredibly strange to see. DD is closer to a wolf than a dog, Quiet is half naked and Snake, well, Snake looks like he always does — scarred and straight out of hell, with blood still stuck in the joints of his prosthetic arm and bullet holes in his clothes — but it takes nothing from the sheer domesticity of the whole thing.

 

 

It’d be a shame to bother them when they’re finally bonding.

 

 

Ocelot turns around, maybe to go back to work or to finally catch that nap he’s been dreaming about, he’s not sure yet, when Snake lifts his head from the game to look right at him.

 

 

“You wanna join, Ocelot?”

 

 

He shrugs, goes to say _no_ , say _I have better things to do_ , and Quiet looks at him too and he knows he’s fucked.

 

 

These are two people he can never say no to, and he feels like they both are abusing that power when they look at him like that.

 

 

“I have work to do,” He says instead, and sit besides Snake. “And I’m quite sure you do, too, Boss.”

 

 

“Shut up and take your cards, Ocelot.”

 

 

Quiet doesn’t say a word but if she could, he’s sure she’d say the exact same things, so he shut up, and he takes his cards.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Thanks for saving our men, boss."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I headcanon Snake as two things: patient, and hella tired. All the time. Let him sleep

She comes to him in the middle of the night, as he’s on his way to Quiet’s cell. He recognizes her as one of those who joined of their own volition — not the majority, far from it, and maybe their recruitment strategy isn’t the best but it seems to be working for now — but not much else.

 

 

Her name is Howling Hyena, she says, and one of the soldiers he was sent to save last mission is her brother. She talks fast: she managed to put all of this info in a single salute, and  _ that’s  _ a talent if he’s ever seen one. He barely managed to say “Hello, sir”, back in the day, and that was when he found the motivation to say anything at all.

 

 

(Maybe that’s because his superior officers all had the bad habit of skipping hello’s and how-are-you’s to jump directly to the matter at hand, whatever it might be, ignoring both politeness and his sometime-life-threatening-injuries, because  _ war waits for no man _ .)

 

 

(Be the SO you want to see in the world, they said, and Snake became a very patient one. He also might be a little too tired to speak most of the time. He doesn’t remember the last time he wasn’t.)

 

 

“At ease, soldier,” He manages to place between two outbursts of words from what he is realizing is the rookiest rookie to ever rookie on this base. He’s not quite sure she even should have a firearm — she might just shot herself in the foot, if she can even tell which end shoots bullets. “It was nothing. I was in the area, and I never leave prisoners behind.”

 

 

She nods curtly, like she doesn’t quite believe him but is too afraid to say so, and Snake sighs.

 

 

“What is it, soldier?”

 

 

She has a spine, somewhere under the nerves, because she doesn’t need any more encouragements to say her piece. “Well, I mean, it’s nice to know we’re, like, we’re not alone. You’re watching us and it’s, huh,” She seems to lose a bit of her courage at that but soldiers on, getting a bit quieter at each word. “It’s nice to know you care. You didn’t have to save them, but you did. Cuz we’re not that important, in the great scheme of things. We’re basically expandable, ain’t we?”

 

 

“Not to me.”

 

 

“That’s what I’m sayin’, Boss. Thank you for caring. They didn’t care like that, back home.”

 

 

And maybe she’s not as much as a rookie as he first thought. Maybe she’s like all those people who were roped into the East-West conflict in far-away lands and never forgot the weight of a riffle in her young hands. You don’t need to fight in the war to know what it’s like, to have the life of your family on the line and a stranger’s in your line of fire.

 

 

They have many of those here. It always takes them time to get used to the way Diamond Dogs do things.

 

 

“I do my best.” He gestures at her blank uniform, with only the Diamond Dogs insignia on it, and asks, “Tell me, Hyena, has Miller assigned you anywhere yet?”

 

 

“Huh, no, sir. Says I need more training before I’m good for anything.” She looks like it’s the first time anyone has ever bothered to make sure she’s qualified for her duty. It’s a nice feeling, although one he can’t relate with: even now, he doesn’t feel qualified for anything going on and especially not leading a PF or saving the world from giant nuclear weapons and men on fire. “It’s not a surprise, really. I only joined a month ago, and I’ve never shot anyone before.”

 

 

“Why did you join?”

 

 

“Wanted to help people like you helped my brother, sir. I ain’t much of a mother, but I’ve always been told I got a protective instinct a mile wide and it has to be good for something, right?”

 

“Right…” 

 

 

He scratches his shin and the small scars all over it, remnants of a bullet hitting the rocks a little too close to his face.

 

 

“Well, work hard in training and you might be assigned sooner than you’d think, soldier.”

 

 

He nods at her in goodbye and walks away without another word. She stumbles into another salute and splutters her own goodbyes to his retreating back.

 

 

Through the sound of the chopper landing he hears her speaking to another recruit passing by:

 

 

“Feels like I’ve just been into the weirdest job interview of my life”.

 

 

“That’s Big Boss for you, I guess.”

 

 

He smiles at that.

 

 

(“Hey, Kaz, how do you feel about a new recruit for Base Dev? She has potential, but she sure as hell ain’t cut for the heavy fighting.”

 

 

“If she can use a keyboard she’s in, Boss. At this point that’s all I can ask.”)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ocelot gets a cat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My cat died yesterday and I've had this WIP in my drive for forever so I finished/vaguely polished it, there you go. Happiness and cats. 
> 
> The image of Ocelot, sitting on a chair with a big ass Russian leopard next to him is basically everything I've ever wanted but I can't draw so this will have to do
> 
> I headcanon ocelot as being a gigantic nerd. He knows all the plants you can pick up and all the wild animals you see and he doesn’t have access to the internet he’s a nerd i tell you
> 
> Also, Snake tells terrible jokes about Ocelot’s callsign and ocelot is too tired to care anymore

Big Boss doesn’t often have to deal with people himself. Sure, he interrogates enemy soldiers, threaten some people, maybe save a few prisoners — if dragging them through the jungle and futon-ing them without a word even count as ‘dealing with people’ — but calm, diplomatic discussions just aren’t his division.

  
  


But sometimes, well, sometimes they get a big contract and their contact just won’t agree to anything before being assured they’re dealing with  _ the _ Big Boss.

  
  


“Next time I’m not letting them talk me into sending you in person,” Kazuhira Miller, sanest person on Mother Base — elected unanimously by the soldiers, as well as Most Bitter — says as Snake jumps from the chopper. He’s leaning on a soldier, probably because he developed the habit of throwing his crutch in the ocean in fits of rage, and there’s a cage behind them.

  
  


The cage contains a leopard. A baby leopard, which is the reason for why Kaz is pissed off at the moment. He usually doesn’t need as much incentive as an endangered specie dropped on the base during his lunch break to be angry — he’s a very angry person, it’s a well-known fact — but he doesn’t often have a reason for it and this is a  _ pretty good one _ , and he’s not going to miss the occasion. 

  
  


“Well at least it got me to take a shower, shouldn’t you be grateful for that? And I send wild animals here all the time, anyway.”

  
  


Kaz silently pulls out a rumpled paper out of his pocket. He holds it between two fingers, waves it at Snake and quotes, with the voice of someone who has learned the words by heart for that very situation, “Kaz. This one isn’t a rescue. Ask Ocelot if he knows anything about training big cats.”

  
  


He withdraws his hand before Snake can reach for the paper and says, “I have to draw the line somewhere, Snake. I’m used to your shit — God knows I’ve helped you with it before — but I have to draw a line in the sand. There’s a limit to what I am willing to put up with.” The paper crumbles in his hand and he takes a deep breath. “Do you know what I am willing to put up with today?”

  
  


“N—”

  
  


“ _ Not fucking this _ .”

  
  


“Hey, you have to admit it would be pretty useful in mission. Aren’t leopard ambush predators?”

  
  


Kaz throws one arm in the air — he needs the other to stay balanced and it’s impairing his dramatical gestures somewhat. “I don’t  _ know _ ! Ask Ocelot! He’ll know, if the incessant big cat facts I’ve had to put up with for the last two days are anything to go by!”

  
  


Here’s the thing: Kaz is too tired to give a damn about who or what Snake wants to bring with him on his missions. As long as Kaz doesn’t have to deal with any of it and he’s not bankrupting them, Snake can go save the world with an elephant for all he cares. If the job’s getting done, who is he to complain about the way it’s done, right?

  
  


But the problem here is that someone — namely, Ocelot — is forcing him to deal with it by quoting the encyclopedia entry about leopards out loud each time they see each other. And they do, often, because leading Diamond Dogs is a joint effort that takes up most of their time, as Snake seems unwilling to offer any help beyond running around and doing all the dirty work himself — despite the many competent soldiers he insists on sending them. 

  
  


Kaz knows they need Ocelot but if he hears anything else about a leopard’s diet ever again he will personally beat him to death with his crutch.

  
  


Snake rolls his eye and pats him on the shoulder as he passes him, and doesn’t say anything else on the subject. 

  
  


Kaz sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose under his glasses. “Fucking typical.”

  
  


\--

  
  


She’s a gift from an African prince, a reward for their effort in cleaning the mess, or at least that’s what Snake tells him: for all any of them know, he might have stolen it just to get Ocelot a pet. He  _ would _ . 

  
  


“It’s rude to get a gift killed in an Afghan war zone.”

  
  


“Fair enough, but how is that,” And as he says it, Kaz gestures in the vague direction of what Snake described as ‘Ocelot overlooking the training troops with an overgrown kitten in his arms’, “The best alternative option you could come up with, despite the presence of an actual zoo on the base?”

  
  


Snake shrugs, careful not to dislodge the arm resting on his left shoulder, and says, “I don’t know. I thought it would be nice.”

  
  


A sigh. “I guess it is.”

  
  


Life’s easier when Ocelot has someone else to bother, anyway. Maybe Kaz will finally be able to get some sleep now that there’s someone else to keep the Russian company when he’s playing radio support for Snake.

  
  


\--

  
  


In the end, Diamond Cat doesn’t end up in a nice suit and thrown into death-defying situations with Snake: the man dumps his new pet into Ocelot arms and, just like that, the beast becomes another permanent fixture in Intel.

  
  


At first it’s cute. Soldiers come in to report and find Ocelot’s desk covered with loose papers and empty coffee cups and a sleeping kitten the size of an adult cat. It — she — purrs a lot and rubs her head against Ocelot’s arm. Nobody has ever seen him asleep — they’re not even sure he  _ does _ sleep — but rumors say they sleep together and it’s plain c _ harming _ , alright, this terrifying espion and the big cat he wears like a scarf.

  
  


And then it gets scary, and keeps getting scarier. Ocelot alone is a force to be reckoned with, but now there’s an Amur leopard that follows him everywhere and the only things keeping her from mauling someone is the voice of her master, who’s not the kind of man to put himself between his pet and whoever angered her. She’s more on the smaller side, but a small leopard is still a pretty big animal to have roaming free on the mother base.

  
  


Most soldiers jump out of the way when they see DC walking by, because Ocelot trained them to be smart and trained _her_ to have a taste for fresh capitalist blood. Although some would say they were trained to be _smarter_ _than that_ , especially when some of them happen to accidentally jump over the side of the platform they’re currently on and either fall to the lower levels of it or directly into the sea.

  
  


No one dares complain about it to Ocelot and, by the twentieth time it happens, Kaz bans complaining about it to superior officers altogether. He doesn’t like it either, but he’s smart enough to know Ocelot would never put a beloved pet — especially one given to him by Snake — into a cage, because the damn Russian is sentimental like that, no matter how much he denies it. There’s no point in fighting him.

  
  


So he threatens anyone who comes whining about the hundred-pounds killing machine to him with whatever disgusting duty he can think of at the time and pretends he’s surprised when they accept because it’s as far from Intel as someone can be on Mother Base.

  
  


\--

  
  


“So, how’s my favorite cat doing?”

  
  


“I don’t know, how are you doing, DC?” A loud purr through the comm answers to this. “I’ll take that as a ‘fine’. Good girl.”

  
  


“That’s great, but not what I asked. So, how are  _ you _ doing, Ocelot?”

  
  


“Get back to the mission, Snake.” A pause. “I’m also fine, although mildly insulted on her behalf that DC is not your favorite.”

  
  


Snake chuckles. “Careful, before you turn into a crazy cat lady!”

  
  
“ _ The mission _ , Snake.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes there's a game grumps reference. fight me I'm hilarious.
> 
> At some point Snake comes back with a hunting falcon for Miller. He uses it to get reports without moving from his desk and also to scare the shit out of people.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quiet gets clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know how bikini armor is a thing that exist? yeah, don't like that.
> 
> originally posted on my tumblr because i forgot this thing existed...

“Ocelot.”

“Hm?”

Snake slowly drags his eyes from Quiet, with whom he has been locked in a staring contest for a while now, to look at Ocelot, who just stepped into the cell.

“We need to get her clothes.”

 

Quiet tilts her head to the side. Ocelot blinks, slowly, and she returns the gesture, kind of like two cats communicating goodwill at one another.

“She’s a mature adult. If she wanted clothes, she’d get them.”

It’s true that Snake tends to forget Quiet is smart enough to decide for herself — probably smarter than he is, sometimes. He blames his parenting instinct.

“She is locked in a cell and mute.”

“Hasn’t stopped her before.”

“I have the hope that she is trying to obey to Kaz’s rules.”

Ocelot crosses his arms over his chest.

“I see what you mean. What do you think, Quiet?”

She shrugs, completely non-committal.

“She doesn’t seem that bothered by it.”

“Still, I’d prefer to give her the _choice_ , at least.”

Ocelot smiles at that and doesn’t say anything.

 

-

 

“Doesn’t she need exposed skin to _breathe_ , though?”

“The End did very well with only his face bare, apparently. If she can function at night, she can definitely function with more skin coverage.”

“Fair enough.”

 

-

 

Snake srides into Quiet’s room/cell with an armful of folded clothes and Ocelot at his heels. The later sports a faint, fond smile which he barely tries to hide behind his scarf.

“Good morning, Quiet,” He says, signing it at the same time, and she responds in kind. She got the hang of sign language extremely quickly, although she is still not prone to discussion.

Snake crosses the space in two steps and hands her the clothes through the bars of her cell. “Here, try them out. I wasn’t sure of your size, so I borrowed those from the first soldier I found who was about your height... And willing to lend you a part of her wardrobe. If you like it we can get some of your own, hm?”

She nods with a smile of her own and takes the clothes. She looks at the military fatigues with some scepticism but puts them on all the same. She adjusts the pants, tugs a little at the hem of the shirt, and even tries to disappear — which works just fine, although it takes her two tries, as if she were getting used to the difference in volume.

“Thoughts?”

She looks up at Snake, eyes wide, and signs, _‘This is amazing.’_

Snake looks very pleased with himself.

“No feeling of weakness? Lack of sunlight? Breathlessness?” She shakes her head. “Well, at least I won’t have to worry about you getting sand burns all over your stomach when I drag you to Afghanistan.”

“Wait—” Ocelot rises one hand. “If real clothes don’t stop you from breathing or turning invisible — why the _fuck_ did they dress you like that?”

She shrugs again. Snake wrinkles his nose. “Some people must really want to see half-naked young women in battle, apparently.”

Ocelot groans, way too disgusted for a man who practices torture as a hobby. Snake nods. Quiet, too busy marveling at the fabric covering her body, doesn’t notice.


End file.
